


Even my boyfriend thinks I'm gay

by jasmiinitee



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms
Genre: Coming Out, Drinking, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Morse/Jakes mentioned only, homophobia lite (tm), idk if i should tag this but obv someone might see queer as a slur, morse is a grump and jim is a good dude, not-husbands jim and morse, set during series 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 10:26:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18233657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmiinitee/pseuds/jasmiinitee
Summary: me:haha yeah i mean i don't really ship them but man are they fun togetherfriend:that one flirty look in cartouche thome:yeah hahaliterally no one:me:also i wrote you a 3k shippy mess of awkward coming out and flirting and I love it wtfAlternatively: How George Fancy's nosy question about his coworkers' living arrangements ended up filling its own prophecy





	Even my boyfriend thinks I'm gay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fitzrove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fitzrove/gifts).



> I don't even know man they're cute and I know there are people out here who like them, Jim needs more love, so here you go!
> 
> Rating may change if my pal bullies me into deeper waters with this supposed crackship that I'm now starting to take surprisingly seriously. You know who you are and what you did buddy.

‘Cheers, Morse, see you around!’  
‘At the station,’ Morse said. Goodnight.’  
George Fancy didn’t look up from his shoes when he pulled on his coat and walked out, but he did look like he found something very funny when he left.  
  
‘So, what was all that about?’ Morse asked when he walked into the kitchen, leaning on the dining room door frame. Jim wiped his hands dry from washing the dishes, and looked over his shoulder.  
‘What was what about?’ he asked and hung the towel away. Morse nodded over to the door.  
‘Fancy.’  
‘Just because _you_ don‘t like him doesn‘t mean the kid’s not allowed to exist, matey,’ Jim pointed out and smiled. Morse stared at him and shoved a hand into his pocket.  
‘What was he laughing about?’ he asked. Jim sighed and shoved the rest of the night’s leftovers away for the next day.  
‘Oh, so out of working hours you’re a fun-police, then,’ he said, jokingly, but Morse furrowed his brow further.  
‘I can be if someone looks at me and immediately starts laughing,’ he said. Jim lifted his brows, feigning innocence, and shook his head. He picked up two beers, and shoved one into Morse’s free hand when he walked past.  
‘There you go.’  
‘I bought these,’ Morse called over his shoulder.  
‘Yeah, mate, I know. Thanks,’ Jim said and made himself comfortable on the couch.  
  
The television was still left on from the evening film he and George had been watching. Morse looked at his beer, looked at Jim, and looked to the door again. Jim stared back at him for a moment, before his resolve cracked.  
‘He was just being a nosy little bugger, all right?’ Jim said.  
‘About me?’ Morse asked. Jim rolled his eyes.  
‘Not everything revolves around you,’ he said and huffed. ‘About both of us. The house.’  
‘Oh.’ Morse frowned at his bottle again, as if it would have given him more answers. ‘What did you tell him?’ he asked.  
‘About what?’  
‘The house.’  
Jim fell silent and busied himself with opening his beer. Morse pursed his lips, but shoved his own on the coffee table to be opened in line. Jim gladly took the opportunity to keep from answering.

Morse nodded his thanks when Jim pushed the bottle back towards him, but didn’t take a swig before Jim looked up and spoke again.

‘He was just curious. Asked if we're, you know…’ Jim inclined his head. Morse shook his head once, a slow, confused gesture. Jim waited until he’d swallowed before he coughed out: ‘Bent. Homosexuals.’  
Morse let his eyes slip from Jim and his eyebrows climbed up.  
‘Right,’ He said and twisted his mouth. He shot the hall an ugly glare, if only for the fact that it was a substitute for George.  
‘Yeah. Listen, mate, I did have a list of your recent birds to tell him about-’  
‘You what?’ Morse snapped his eyes back to Jim.  
‘-so I don’t think you have anything to worry about,’ Jim finished. His grimace was very uncomfortable, but he kept his voice steady. Morse’s jaw dropped.  
‘How have I nothing to worry about if my living room is a public debate forum for my personal life?’  
‘Well, first off, it’s our living room,’ Jim said. Morse stared at him, tilting his head further in bewildered anger like an owl. ‘Secondly, _he asked about it_ . Wasn’t my idea.’  
Morse let out a long sigh and closed his eyes altogether. Jim looked at him and drummed his fingers on his bottle of beer, waiting for another snappy retort. Morse said nothing, shook his head and sat down in the armchair he’d finally claimed as his own in the past few weeks.  
  
‘I told him I’m not... that _we’re not_ anything fishy. Nothing… _queer_ going on.’  
‘Except two adult men sharing a flat,’ Morse scoffed under his breath and took a drink.  
‘A lot of people do!’ Jim gestured tiredly. ‘It’s a city, Morse. I know several people who bunk up together.’  
‘ _Students_ , maybe,’ Morse said. ‘Or someone who’s just moved here or just got a job, like Fancy.’  
‘Or someone trying to save and get to work together, _like you and me_ , matey,’ Jim said, like trying to explain to someone that water was wet. Morse gave him a side-eyed look and twisted his lips, but didn’t press on. Jim gave up and looked at the television again.  
‘What’s this?’ Morse asked with disdain.  
‘I don’t know, wasn’t paying attention. I was trying to explain to you the same I just told George,’ Jim said and shrugged.  
‘Enough about George Fancy, all right!’ Morse said and looked at him again. Jim raised a surprised eyebrow. ‘I don’t want to hear about him. What he thinks of me and my life.’  
‘All right.’ Jim held back a grin.  
‘And now _you’re_ laughing,’ Morse said and waved a hand at him. ‘You ought to be a bit more careful with what you joke about. It might not be illegal, but I doubt it’s a good rumour either, for two policemen.’  
‘You and me?’ Jim asked, and chortled out a real laugh. ‘I don’t think anyone would believe even if I went and said so. I’m not exactly a pretty blonde, am I. Nor are you. Would make one ugly woman, just saying.’  
‘Thank you, Jim,’ Morse grumbled, and Jim kept grinning.  
‘First names, huh?’ he said. Morse gave him a flat look. ‘Maybe they would believe.’  
  
‘I mean, it’s not like there’s anything strange about it, right? Were just... chums.’ Jim looked uncertain even as he said it, Morse kept his eyes on the coffee table. ‘Right?’  
‘If you say so.’  
‘Cause I’m not, and certainly _you’re_ not…’ Jim said, but trailed off when Morse only widened his eyes at the table in silence. ‘I mean, it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve kipped off at someone else’s place. Just a bit longer this time.’  
‘Longer?’ Morse asked and looked up, an alarmed tension to him. ‘Longer than...?’  
‘Well, you did spend some time with those posh buddies of yours, didn’t you, at the lake, after... after Her Majesty’s,’ Jim said and motioned vaguely. Morse’s shoulders dropped again and he gave a mild nod.  
‘I did,’ he said, rubbing a hand over his mouth. Jim smiled and nodded.  
‘So there’s nothing funny about it,’ he said. Morse nodded. ‘And didn’t you stay over at Jakes’s quite a lot when he was still around?’  
Morse didn’t nod. He dropped his eyes quickly to stare at the coffee table again, eyes wide and bright red blots spreading against the pale of his cheeks. Jim looked on in confusion.  
‘Morse?’  
‘Is that also the talk about me?’ Morse asked. Jim chuckled.  
‘What’s the matter with you, mate? You and Jakes getting back to his place and...?’ Jim's smile fell as he trailed off. Morse’s whole face was red, and he was giving the table a very stern and disapproving look.  
  
‘Oh.’  
‘Mm.’  
‘ _Oh_?’  
‘ _Mhm_.’

Jim looked at Morse in a silence that stretched on and grew heavy. Morse didn't make an effort to break it, and Jim was still trying to understand the implications of what he had brought up and got confirmed. Morse didn’t return his confused look; he kept his eyes firmly on the carpet and the table and the labels on the bottle.  
‘So you… you _are_ …?’ Jim asked, quieter and without so much as a smirk. He set his bottle on the table and crossed his hands on his lap. ‘You two were… with Jakes, then? _You are_ ...?’  
‘Not a very good Christian, no,’ Morse said through his teeth. He downed the rest of his beer with notable speed as Jim watched on, and set the empty bottle next to Jim’s.  
‘You’re not pulling my leg, man, are you?’ he asked. Morse shook his head, but he was a bit hesitant about it. Almost like he wished he was. Jim let out a long breath and sat back.  
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Guess we _are_ a bit fishy, then.’  
It was casual and nonchalant enough to get Morse to look at him, and after a short, shocked look, Morse laughed. It was a short laugh, and maybe a bit hysterical, but Jim replied with a wry smile on his own and spread his hands in defeat. It cleared the air a bit.  
‘I suppose so,’ Morse said, still red-faced and avoiding looking Jim directly in the eye again, but his tone was a bit softer.

Jim gave Morse a calm, friendly nod, and picked up his beer, but kept the rest of his questions to himself while he finished it. The silence wasn’t comfortable, not really, but not as tense as it had been, either. Familiar, in that way. Morse relaxed a bit in his chair as well, though his face still matched his hair in colour.  
Jim got up to turn the television off, and wandered back into the kitchen, taking the bottles away with him. Morse picked up the paper from the coffee table, and tried to see if there was still a puzzle left in the house that he hadn’t solved.  
  
‘You want another?’ Jim called out to him. Morse looked up from the crossword and knit his brows together.  
‘Another beer?’ he asked in disbelief. ‘They’re still mine! Why don’t you buy your own?’  
‘There’s two left, matey, and I’m asking if you want one.’  
Morse shook his head to himself. ‘All right. But you owe me two.’  
‘Sure,’ Jim said. He came back with two opened bottles, and a toast topped with a generous helping of marmalade. Morse thanked him, when Jim sat down and set one bottle in front of him, the other at his own spot. He picked up a book, and the carefully calm silence settled between them again.

‘We’re friends, though, aren’t we?’ Jim asked. ‘I mean, even if you fancied Jakes like… like, uh.’  
‘Like something else as well?’ Morse asked helpfully. Jim nodded, unwilling to receive the help even in so many words. ‘I think we are.’  
‘Good,’ Jim said. ‘Good. I mean, you’re not the easiest bloke around these parts. But you’re not that bad.’ He chuckled. Morse didn’t spare the backhanded comment any notion, just stretched his legs out and let it be, giving all of his attention to his beer and the crossword again.  
  
‘Quite honestly, I would have thought you’d take this worse if you ever found out,’ Morse said after a while. His smile was careful, but it grew a bit warmer when Jim shook his head and scoffed, almost as if offended by the assumption.  
‘Can’t say you’ve been as tame as I thought you’d be, back when we first met,’ Jim said, with a little bite, but mostly it was a friendly notion. ‘Of course, I didn’t think _this_ but… You’re you, aren’t you.’  
Morse didn't reply, but he kept smiling. They looked at each other quietly.  
‘You’re really something else,’ Morse said. ‘I don’t understand.' He didn’t explain it further, but Jim still had the sense to look humbled by the vague compliment.  
‘Nah, mate, I’m just trying to do good. Stay on the side of the law and what’s right,’ he said. Morse left out a soft huff at that, but Jim lifted a reassuring hand. ‘And I don't think you’re _wrong_. You’re a good one.’  
‘Still. I wouldn’t say that _we are_ fishy,’ Morse said, a bit lighter than earlier. The way he looked at Jim was still sincere. ‘I might be, but you’re all straight and true. There’s nothing queer going on. Like you said.’  
‘Except that we’re two adult men, sharing a flat,’ Jim said, and the way he quirked his eyebrows seemed to echo “ _like you said_ ”. Morse ducked his head and smiled at his crosswords.  
‘Except for that,’ he agreed. Jim laughed, and went back to his book and its dog-eared pages.  
  
Finishing a puzzle was becoming easier and quicker for Morse every time he did it, though he hadn't timed himself that night. Enough to enjoy the beer and the silence. Enough for Jim to enjoy his and get onto a new chapter of his novel.

‘So, you told Fancy that I only drag in birds?’  
‘If you’ve had a bloke here without telling me, we’ve got to have a new talk about house rules,’ Jim said without looking up from his book. ‘I still live here.’  
‘I know,’ Morse said. ‘I’m just thinking about what he thinks of me. What made him think to ask in the first place.’  
Jim gave him a careful evaluating look. ‘Well, I mean…’ Morse raised an eyebrow, and Jim dropped the sentence.  
‘You think I _look_ like I go for men?’ Morse asked. Jim shook his head, but Morse set the paper down and sat up. ‘I thought you said that I wouldn’t be attractive.’  
‘I just said you wouldn’t make for a good-looking woman,’ Jim pointed out. ‘For a bloke, sure, maybe you’re pretty enough.’

‘Pretty enough?’ Morse asked slowly. ‘By whose standards?’  
Jim looked up in surprise. He shook his head, mouth gaping in search of words. A soft smirk spread on Morse’s face, a bit mocking too. Jim stared at him, but let out a heavy sigh of relief when the sly grin it turned into a dry laugh.  
‘Jesus, you nearly had me in a fit. _Pretty enough for a bloke_ , in general,’ Jim said. ‘You shouldn’t be allowed to listen to people, you pay too much attention.’  
‘I can’t help it.’  
‘Don’t I know!’ Jim huffed.  
  
Morse stood up, set his beer back down on the table, and stepped up to Jim’s side. He looked down at him, eyes soft and downcast, but there was something sharper in the half of a smile too. Jim closed his book and looked up. The hidden laugh made Morse squint a little.  
Had Jim stood up, Morse would have been the one to lift his chin to meet his gaze, but he stayed where he was. He didn't tell Morse to back down.  
‘How did Fancy ask about it?’ Morse asked quietly. Jim inclined his head in half a shrug.  
‘Just went for it. “ _You two, you and Morse, you aren't, like, old navy_?” And I told him no,’ he said. Morse scoffed at the choice of words like a disappointed teacher, and shoved his hands in his pockets.  
‘Right,’ he sighed. ‘Just when I thought he couldn’t have less tact.’  
‘Look who’s talking,’ Jim said. Morse looked down at him, narrowing his eyes in amusement.

‘If he asked you that,’ Morse said softly, ‘shouldn’t he then also be thinking that you’re pretty enough for me?’  
Jim looked up at his amused look for a short moment, closed his eyes instead of rolling them, and then just smiled forcefully through the cringe that followed. Morse didn’t have to smirk alone for long, before Jim burst into a strained laugh that was almost giggling.  
‘Jesus Christ, matey, _that’s_ your best one?’  
‘Maybe I’m rusty.’  
‘I should hope so. Going to feel sorry for all the girls otherwise.’  
‘Rusty with men,’ Morse corrected.  
‘Oh, so you can do better, can you?’  
‘I could.’ He smiled. Jim shook his head, doubting it, but Morse only shrugged. ‘Just depends on whether you want to hear it or not.’  
Jim set his book aside and and leaned a hand on his knee. ‘Let’s hear it then.’  
‘If I look queer enough to be on the pull for you,’ Morse said and leaned a bit closer, giving Jim a sideways look under his lashes, ‘then you must look queer enough to go along with me.’  
  
Jim looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be very flattered or somewhat offended, so he just settled on amused. Morse laid a hand calmly on his shoulder, and Jim didn't dodge the heavy touch nor the weighted look Morse gave him.

When Morse leaned down to kiss him on the corner of his mouth, he let him. He even let another, a bit bolder kiss press squarely against his lips.  
  
‘That would, of course, all just be some unfounded guesswork,’ Morse said softly and seriously, and straightened up again. ‘Since something like that would never happen.’  
Jim blinked slowly, took a deep breath through his nose, and found nothing to say.  
‘Sure thing, mate. If you say so,’ he managed. Morse was red again, but he also looked very satisfied with himself. He brushed his knuckles along Jim’s soft jaw and cheek before stepping around the coffee table again.

‘Good night, Jim’

‘Night, Morse.’


End file.
